Misguided
by Becky99
Summary: The IMF is dumbfounded when Cinnamon shows signs of being a traitor.
1. Chapter 1

**MISGUIDED**

[]

_Introduction:_

"Something is wrong." Jim Phelps paced back and forth before his men in the comfort of his spacious apartment. He lifted his hands to express himself, a lighted cigarette between the fingers of one hand and a sheet of paper in the other. "I received this report from our man in the Belkholt office. She is not reporting in."

Willy looked from Jim to the other two men in the room then back to their leader, "Cinnamon? Do they think she was found out?" he asked.

"We're not entirely sure what is going on." Phelps tossed the paper on his coffee table in front of Rollin Hand who was sitting on the sofa. He watched as the dapper agent, their master of disguise, picked it up and studied the report. "Two weeks ago she reported in to Glouster. He said she told him all was well but she had concerns. One of the diplomats, a Dr. Kwik, had eyed her - initially as a conquest - but then told her he felt they had met somewhere before. Cinnamon couldn't place him but she worried that he might have been someone she had come into contact with during one of our early missions."

Barney Collier's brow furrowed and he breathed heavily out. This sort of thing was always a concern for the IMF but, so far, they had managed to dodge being recognized by a recipient of one of their previous deceptions. "They don't think she's dead, do they?"

"No." It was Rollin who spoke, "According to this report she has been seen with Andre Knoll, her target, at parties and there are pictures to prove she is well." Rollin shrugged, appearing visibly relieved. "Obviously she is being closely watched."

Willy nodded, "And hasn't been able to report in. It's the only explanation."

Rollin placed the report on the coffee table. "I always felt she shouldn't have been left alone. One of us should have gone in with her to …"

"What?" Phelps suddenly asked, looking closely at Rollin. "To watch over her? We were needed here. All four if us."

It was a complicated mission, taking place in both the United States and in Belkholt, an Eastern European country friendly to the west but, as a few noted, easily influenced by the east. Cinnamon was playing the part of a Janine Razzman, an ambassador's personal assistant working in the American Embassy. She was to make it abundantly clear to Knoll that she could be bribed for information, with possible romance on the side. All the while, Cinnamon would be recording conversations between Knoll and his aide, Warden."

"We were getting good information for a while." Phelps said, "But suddenly it stopped coming. However, Cinnamon is continuing to be seen with Knoll. The Secretary, as you can imagine, is concerned."

"We need to get her out then?" Willy asked.

"The problem is Cinnamon isn't receptive to coming back."

Rollin and the others now looked at Phelps, unsure of his meaning.

"We have two minor agents who have fed Cinnamon coded worded signals, basically asking her what the difficulty might be or if she needs assistance. She's ignoring them; not telling them anything one way or the other. They said it's almost as if she is purposely ignoring them or doesn't understand their signals."

"Could Knoll be drugging her?" Willy asked.

"They say she seems lucid but uncommunicative."

"Maybe that's a signal in itself." Barney suggested.

"The Secretary is not convinced. She is a good enough agent to know that she _must _keep in touch with us in some way. She's been given opportunity but isn't following through. They're worried …." Phelps hesitated.

"What Jim?" Willy asked.

"Some officials are afraid she might have turned traitor."

"What?" Barney suddenly appeared appalled, "That is ridiculous."

"You and I know it but even the Secretary has people to report to. They've decided, if this keeps up, something might have to be done." Phelps looked at his team, at their silent but grave faces. They all knew what that meant. If Cinnamon Carter was thought to be a defector they might be obligated to do something drastic about it.

"Rollin has known her longer than any of us." Barney said, "She would never do such a thing, would she?"

"No." Hand stated, quietly but firmly. "She is completely trustworthy."

Jim Phelps stared at his Master of Disguise for a moment. He had always suspected there was a little more between Rollin and Cinnamon than a good working relationship. They labored together in and about the IMF a few years before he had become their leader. There had been rumors, mostly from operatives Cinnamon dismissed as suitors, about a possible one time love affair between the two agents. Jim dismissed the gossip. Besides, if it were true he did not want to know about it. Any relationship they might have had was their own business. "We've been given a week to prove Cinnamon is not a turncoat. But it cannot interfere with her current mission. We still need all the info Knoll can give us."

"What do you suggest, Jim?" Rollin asked.

"Rollin, you need to go in there and find out what is going on. We'll give you a cover, a diplomat of some kind." Phelps looked briefly out the glass door to his balcony. It looked like it might rain. "I would do it myself but I need to make contact with Glouster. He's asking for my personal help on this one."

"I'll report directly to the Embassy then?" Rollin asked, "They will understand?"

"We can't tell them everything but they will have an idea of what is going on." Phelps looked at Barney and Willy, "We will keep you two in the background." He told them, "Honestly, you are going to be in the dark until we hear from Rollin."

Hand stood, "When do I leave?"

"Soon." Phelps said. He then added, "I can't emphasize enough how dangerous this is, Rollin." he hesitated, "If we find out that Cinnamon has turned traitor …"

"Jim …" Rollin started.

"You need to understand something, Rollin." He spoke firmly, also to Barney and Willy. "We all need to get this _right_ in our heads. If the unlikely happens we will have no choice but to eliminate the problem."

"Jim, are you saying what I think you're saying?" Barney asked.

"Yes." Phelps regretfully looked from Willy and Barney to Rollin Hand, "If Cinnamon does prove to be a traitor … Rollin, _you_ will have to kill her."

[]

**END OF INTRODUCTION.**

_Hi everyone. Got n idea for a new Mission: Impossible fiction while watching an old movie. Hope you enjoy this one. Have a feeling poor Miss Carter will be in for a bad time - and hopefully her fellow agents will get her out of it. Becky._


	2. Chapter 2

**2.**

_'You will have to killer her.'_

Rollin thought about the statute during the entire twelve-hour flight to Belkholt. Did Jim really know what he was asking? The mere suggestion of any of them potentially doing in another team member, men and women they had grown close to and worked with for years, was expecting a lot.

But … this was _Cinnamon Carter._

Twenty four hours ago, when they had finally left Jim's apartment, Willy was the first of the solemn three to admit _he_ would not be able to do it. The men stood quietly in the elevator, alone with their own thoughts, as it descended them into the building's parking garage.

"Can you?" Barney finally asked, adding to the heaviness in the air, and looked directly at Rollin.

There was a long intense pause.

"I will do what I have to do." Rollin said but his expression must have betrayed him because neither Barney nor Willy seemed reproachful. This was_ Cinnamon_, after all … and although he had never told any of them of his and Miss Carter's brief love affair it was not difficult to assume something significant had happened during the Purma mission several months ago.

Rollin and Cinnamon had been left alone, their assignment necessitating only two agents on the inside and Barney's electronic wizardry aiding in their escape. At one point Cinnamon, an innocent civil prisoner, was locked in a small claustrophobic cell for many days. Rollin – as a guard – was her only contact. He was one of the few people who knew of Cinnamon's hidden fear, enclosed spaces, and he had seen to it that she was eventually transferred to a cell with a small window. It was the least he could do, telling others her original space would be needed for another prisoner important enough to jail closer to the guard's station. Rollin appreciated the quick and tender 'thank you' in her expression as she was roughly pushed into the new cell.

Although they tried to stay on top of their task, freeing some important political prisoners, there was that one moment when Van Trill – a loathsome night shift Sergeant of the guards - came to her cell. Rollin, playing the man's reprehensible ally, followed closely. Van Trill's intent had been rape and the possible use of other forms of brutality on the woman. The act was not to get information but for his own sadistic pleasure. Only Rollin's persuasive words, telling Van Trill that _he_ had grown fond of their beautiful prisoner and _he_ wanted her for himself, prevented the violence from happening. Van Trill owed his new man a favor for getting him out of a sticky situation with the Captain. He let him have her, leaving Rollin and Cinnamon alone in the cell, assuming Rollin was having his pitiless way with her.

For a moment Cinnamon looked as if she was going to lose it and later Rollin would learn she was beaten and deprived of food for several days before he had first spotted her in the cell-block. Sympathetic, he took her in his arms when they were alone and whispered: "It's almost over." close to her ear, feeling Cinnamon shaking in his embrace. She nodded and he felt the motion, her soft hair brushing his cheek.

"Sir, please. What are you going to do?" she asked like a frightened little girl, in the accent and language of her people.

Rollin was grateful for the woman's bravery but knew she would hate what was on his mind. He wished she would go home, get married, and stay as far away from international intrigue as possible. Cinnamon was too precious to be placed in situations like this. "What am I going to do?" he repeated in a cruel but deceptively mellow tone. No one could see Rollin and Cinnamon but they could hear what was going on, all cells having been tapped. Regretfully, Rollin played it heartless. "Come here, my dove, let me show you how a_ real_ man treats a pretty woman …"

She cried, "No … no ..!" Cinnamon then smiled her fatigue and stroked his cheek, acknowledging Rollin's obvious discomfort at the unpleasant words and situation, signifying her understanding.

After the mission he and Cinnamon were given a vacation. No one, with the exception of Barney, suspected they would take it together. To be safe they used assumed names. The couple cruised the Hawaiian Islands together aboard a luxury ship and although the couple had their own spacious cabins they never spent a lonely night in just one room. It was a crazy thing to do but after so many months, years actually, of keeping their hands from one another they were now compelled to jump in with both feet. They played during the day, going off on wonderful tropical excursions, eating mouth-watering meals and shopping … then passionately loving the night away.

However, when the vacation was over, when the magic had dissipated somewhat, and the couple came back down to Earth, they mutually agreed that although it was an incredible experience, something they would never forget, it could never happen again. Cinnamon had told him that she could not allow herself to have profound feelings for him. It would interfere with her ability as a good agent. Rollin concurred. If he allowed himself to fall in love, she would be his focus, not the missions they worked on together. They had their careers to think about, after all.

Still, that closeness and connection remained and probably always would.

Their work prevailed and all seemed to be going so well.

But now, she was being accused of treachery and he was expected to go in, understand the situation, and if Cinnamon had somehow indulged in treason - which he did not believe for one instant - Rollin was to kill her. He did not know yet how he was to do it. A gun or knife would be sloppy and might undo everything they had set in motion in Belkholt. Yet, he had never strangled a woman in his life...

Rollin's eyes closed. The very idea of placing his hands around her throat and choking the life out of Cinnamon Carter, a woman he had been intensely intimate with, was absurd. He could almost see the loathing in her green eyes, the fear, and hear her cries …

Rollin could not face her being abused in Purma. How could he possibly be her executioner now?

"Coffee, sir?" The flight attendant approached and smiled sweetly.

Shaken from his thoughts, Rollin smiled at the girl. "Yes. Thank you."

[]

"So pleased to finally meet you, Mr. Jefferies." David Babcock, the embassy's administrator, shook Rollin's hand as he escorted him into his office, "You will have to excuse the disarray. The Ambassador's secretary has been socializing with one of our in-town guests and I am afraid my business affairs have been lost in the shuffle."

When the door shut behind them the genial attitude lessened slightly. He motioned Rollin to take a chair as he rounded his desk and sat behind it.

Rollin noted Babcock's nervousness. He fed him a few code words and signals to prove they were not at risk. Rollin then whispered, "Any listening devices?"

"None." Babcock replied, "Ever since the first wire was spotted three weeks ago I've had our people do a sweep every twenty-four hours. I can't promise the same for the outside or even the Ambassador's office but we are safe in here."

"Tell me what you know."

"Miss Razzman started well but a few days into her mission she began to behave strangely. She would be gone for hours at a time. I accepted this because I knew she was one of your agents and probably needed the time to carry out Knoll's collapse. But then she started to spend _all_ her time with Knoll and her attitude changed. He_ is_ considered a lady's man but I could not believe what I was seeing." His fingers rapped the top of his mahogony desk. "When the two other agents tried to make contact with Miss Razzman she completely discounted them. I am not sure what she is doing but something is not right and your people need to find out if she is a security risk."

Rollin hid trepidation, "Is there more?"

"Yes, I am afraid there is." Babcock's tone was nearly accusatory, "As of yesterday she has moved out of her quarters here in the Embassy and is now living with Andre Knoll."

Rollin stared at the man for a few moments, dumbfounded. If there was one thing he knew about Cinnamon Carter it was that she cherished her independence. Moving in with a man she had known for just a couple of weeks was definitely not her style. Trying to stay laconic, he asked, "What do you know about a Dr. Kwik?"

"Dr. Edwin Kwik. Ostensibly, he's an MD originally from Manchester, England. He is also a psychologist and is quite brilliant. He came to Belkholt from Stockstil, outside of Sweden, where he had worked for the last several years. Other than the fact he is in Knoll's back pocket we know little else about him."

Barney would be in Belkholt soon, Rollin knew, and he would have him do a detailed search into Dr. Kwik. If Cinnamon was worried about him they all should feel concerned. "And what about Andre Knoll? Any new information"

"You know as much about him as we do. Probably more. We've always been suspicious of his under the table antics with regards to the east but now we're a little nervous about a potential assassination attempt coming from his henchmen."

"Assassination? Are you certain?"

"Not entirely but there have been indications."

"Who?"

"The target? One of three; Sheik Ali Adowa, Ambassador Linentov from Victinstone, or Prince Cersha Shadin from Eractintop. All are well-liked and have indicated they _may_ be willing to negotiate with the west. Yet, they are friendly with Knoll as well." He paused and said, "They are _all_ going to be at a reception tonight. Miss Razzman and Knoll will be there too."

"I'll need you to get me into that reception." Rollin said.

"Yes, I can do that. The Ambassador is allowed a guest and since he will not be available I will go in his place. You're with me." Then, "What do you think is going on, Mr. Jeffries?"

"I'm not certain but if I can get Miss Razzman alone for a few minutes I'm certain I'll find out."

[]

It was a lavish affair with music, dancing, food, beautiful socialites and well-deemed men trying to impress those women and other notables.

Champagne glass in hand, wearing an uncomfortable tuxedo, Rollin stood to the back of the room and kept his eyes on the crowd. He had not yet seen Knoll or Cinnamon but with over five hundred guests rambling about, many talking heads to suffer through, it was difficult to keep focused. Rollin had shaken hands and laughed at many unfunny jokes. He had also promised – as a diplomat – to talk with his leaders about embargos, statutes and any number of shared regulations.

It was all rather maddening and he wished Jim Phelps was in the room to run interference.

Rollin had checked into his hotel room a few hours ago and managed to get an oblique message off to Jim, letting him know what he had learned and where he would be going. Barney arrived shortly after the message was sent and Rollin told him about Dr. Kwik. He might be a red-herring but they needed to know something about the mysterious doctor to forestall a wrong move. Meanwhile, Rollin would try to make contact with Cinnamon tonight. She would trust him even if, for some reason, she did not feel she could trust anyone else.

Barney had looked at Rollin steadily when he said this.

Rollin, alerted to a potential slip up, was about to explain about all their years – he and Cinnamon's - of working together. However, their electronics expert merely lifted a hand and told him, with a grin, no explanation was needed. Barney then told Rollin that Willy was on his way, having commandeered a truck. One never knew if a quick get-away was in their future.

"Jim," Barney had said, "is keeping Ambassador Glouster pacified."

Once again, Rollin took in the crowd and was beginning to wonder if Knoll and Cinnamon had decided to skip the party when he heard an excited cry from an elderly over-decorated woman. She was obviously one of the people who had pulled together the reception and the rather over-affectionate hug she gave to the newcomer was amusing.

Then he saw Cinnamon.

Rollin watched as their hostess greeted Cinnamon with a smile and gentle kiss on the cheek. She was lovely as usual, wearing a blue velvet gown, her blond hair pulled back away from her face into a drape of elaborate curls. Her long neck was adorned with an expensive drop of pearls. Rollin looked for signs of nervousness, perhaps even an indication of mental or physical abuse, and although Cinnamon seemed a little uncomfortable she did not appear mistreated.

With deep inhale, Rollin downed his drink, placed the glass on the tray of a passing waiter, and looked for Babcock. He spotted the envoy, got his attention, and soon both were making their way over to Knoll and Cinnamon.

"Andre, how good to see you again." Babcock lifted a hand in greeting.

Knoll was a tall, handsome man, about forty years old, and played the part of a charmer without fault. "David." He grasped Babcock's hand firmly and delivered a smile that did not quite reach his eyes, "Good to see you again." He glanced side-ways at Cinnamon, "I don't suppose the Ambassador has forgiven me yet for hijacking Miss Razzman?"

"It has been a little rough in the Embassy but we are managing. He's expecting a replacement next week."

Rollin eyed Cinnamon steadily and expected to see some acknowledgment on her lovely face but there was none. She gave him a quick look and a gracious smile but her attention was on Knoll and Babcock alone. She appeared to be scrutinizing them, Rollin thought, but could not account for her disregard of him.

"This is James Jefferies." Babcock introduced.

Rollin shook Knoll's hand and glanced again at Cinnamon.

Knoll saw where his attention was located and introduced, "This is Miss Razzman, Mr. Jefferies …"

"No need to introduce us." Rollin said, quickly. "Janine and I are old friends." He smiled at Cinnamon.

She suddenly stared at him, eyes wide, and a little frightened.

It lasted only a moment but it was obvious he had caught her off guard.

Rollin was astonished but he kept his expression leveled.

"You know each other?" Knoll asked, a bit less friendly than before.

"Yes." She said, but now did not attempt to meet Rollin's eyes.

"Years ago." Rollin offered, "We worked together in the Department of Transportation back then." He clarified, "Even a month after you left Simon was still pining away." Rollin chuckled and watched her. He had just tossed two crystal clear messages her way. 'Years ago' was a question: 'Is there trouble?' and 'Simon' made it clear that he was here to help. Rollin waited for the counter sign. She would either talk about a flower arrangement, which meant she could not talk because she was in danger or Cinnamon would mention the wine or champagne at this reception, which would tell him all was well and she would contact him later.

"Good old Simon." She tittered.

Rollin was puzzled. Like the two agents before him, Cinnamon was not communicating. Perhaps things were worse than The Secretary had suspected. He heard the orchestra strike up an elegant tune and, without preamble, took one of her hands. "You owe a dance, Janine." He pulled her ever so gently, "Come along."

Reluctant, she looked over at her companion but relented at Knoll's nod.

Again, Rollin was confused. He held her in his arms and danced close with the woman. "Are you all right?" he whispered into her ear.

"Fine." she said, "I'm just not used to such elaborate parties."

Rollin wondered if Knoll had wired her. Perhaps this was why Cinnamon was acting so odd. Otherwise, now would be the perfect opportunity to let Rollin know what was going on. But then, as they danced, something occurred to him. Cinnamon _felt_ wrong. He had held this woman in his arms in the past, had whispered tenderly into her ear and, yes, had seen her unclothed and vulnerable … Rollin looked closely at her cheek and hair as they moved together.

Rollin Hand was a master of his craft and it was now very obvious to him.

She was wearing a mask. It was excellent, the skin-tone and texture perfect, but it was still a mask.

The woman he was dancing with and embracing was _not_ Cinnamon Carter.

**[]**

**continued ...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 **

"I have heard that Mr. Knoll has a wonderful home, one of the most beautiful in Belkholt." Rollin engaged in small talk with the woman, valiantly keeping up a charming façade, despite the disquiet her presence denoted. "David said it's a show-place."

"It's also the oldest and most exclusive estate in the area." The Janine Razmann's imposter was a bit more relaxed now in his embrace as they danced; convinced she had fooled the man who was supposedly her old friend and workmate. "It was built over five hundred years ago; a great manor-house." She said somewhat boastful. Then, pressing her advantage, the woman boldly declared: "I am sure Andre would _love_ to have you over some day, James. He enjoys showing off that old place."

Rollin filed the invitation away for later use but also noted that her voice had shot up a few octaves, very un-Cinnamon-like, by the end of her solicitation. He doubted she realized the slip-up and wondered how much the woman had to drink before and during the reception. She wavered ever so slightly in his arms.

Rollin chuckled blithely with her and applauded as the music came to an end.

Later, having excused himself from the faux Miss Razzman, the agent stood back and watched all three high-powered diplomats - and possible prey - as they talked among friends and associates at the reception. Sheik Ali Adowa was a bit pompous and loud but seemed a sociable enough chap. He loved to eat and drink and enjoyed watching others do the same. Prince Cersha Shadin was the handsome twenty year old eldest son of King Halkka. He appeared quiet and respectful to those around him; even a little lost and overwhelmed by the responsibility thrusts upon him. Then there was Ambassador Linentov, appearing grim and jaded most of the night. However, he was obviously very fond of the female by his side. Rollin would later learn she was the favorite of his four wives.

With an inward sigh, his mind racing, Rollin looked over at Knoll and the woman who was impersonating Cinnamon, or Janine Razzman in this case. They were now talking with Babcock and Dr. Kwik, who had finally shown at the reception. The conversation appeared pleasant if a little over-formal. Kwik appeared impatient to talk with Knoll alone.

A lot of things were happening here and it would be up to Rollin to determine what was significant. Still, it was difficult to concentrate. He could not stop thinking about a certain blond and her probable fate. It did not look good for her and Rollin could not help thinking they had arrived too late to save Cinnamon Carter.

[]

"Are we just going to assume she's dead?" Barney asked, expression sullen as he adjusted the audio receiver sitting on the small breakfast area tabletop in Rollin's hotel room.

"What would be the point in keeping her alive?" Willy asked, although he appeared unhappy with his own supposition. He sat on the bottom corner of Rollin's bed, tensely clenching and unclenching his hands. The weightlifter had always been very protective of Cinnamon, perhaps he had even indulged in a bit of a mute crush over the years, and the notion of her demise weighed heavily on his mind.

Rollin, lit cigarette in hand, paced agitatedly back and forth in front of the TV and table Barney was working near. He had removed his bow-tie and jacket, the tuxedo now appearing rumpled and in need of laundering. "They don't know that much about Janine Razzman. That much is clear." Rollin offered, "That could mean one of two things. They did away with Cinnamon before information could be properly obtained, which would not make much sense for such an elaborate charade …"

"Or?" Barney questioned, stilling his screw-driver and looking at his two fellow agents.

Rollin stopped moving, glancing at himself briefly in the clothes-drawer mirror, "_Or_ Cinnamon is alive and feeding them only enough information to make the woman passable." He smiled, acknowledging her cleverness. "She knows that if any one of us should question her replacement, as I did, the imposter would be found out quickly." He did not add that Cinnamon would also have also known that Rollin Hand could spot a mask in an instant if he got close enough to one.

"Then they must be keeping her at Knoll's." Willy said, a bit more animated. "He has a place outside the city, big with only a few neighbors."

"Yeah, I've heard of it. And I have an open invitation for a visit." Rollin said, considering all of the possibilities.

"I hate to bring this up," Barney said, "but Jim gave explicit instruction that her mission should not be interfered with. How do we know breaking into that place and rescuing Cinnamon might not compromise whatever Knoll has planned?"

"Lack of time. If they are going to make their move they need to do it quickly. It has something to do with Dr. Kwik and the diplomats, I'm sure." Rollin said, "Kwik seemed very anxious to leave the party, saying he still had work to do if they were to meet their deadline."

"You heard this?" questioned Willy.

"No, Babcock had been talking with Cinnamon's imposter and over-heard the comment."

"Then you do think they intend to assassinate one of those men?"

"Nothing else makes sense. We know the why, an international upset to make the east far more interesting than the west, but it's the specific who and when we don't know."

"This should help." Barney lifted Rollin's tweed jacket off the back of the chair he was sitting next to, "The microphone is in the top button." He said. "I should be able to hear everything said to you during that visit."

"And will I be able to hear you?" Rollin asked.

Barney smiled, proud of his achievement, "Put this behind your left ear." It was a flesh-colored piece of film no larger than the surface of a dime. Against Barney's dark fingers it was vivid but behind Rollin's ear it would not be detectable.

"When I find her we might need to make a quick run for the embassy." Rollin advised.

"I'll have the truck waiting." Willy said, simply.

Rollin nodded at his present team members and smiled. The expression slowly faded to a more somber countenance. He would have to tell Jim of their plans, let him know that Cinnamon was not a traitor as The Secretary had suspected. He would have to be careful with his wording. After all, their next move was predicated on the assumption that Cinnamon was the enemy's prisoner and not a dead woman.

[]

The "when" came from Jim Phelps. He had made contact with Barney, in the hotel room, and told him that Warden, Knoll's aid, had been detained when he flew into Alberta. He had remained tight-lipped with the authorities and tediously stalwart but did let it slip that the three diplomats would be leaving Belkholt on the evening of the fifth, immediately following a farewell gathering at the American Embassy.

Babcock had also told Rollin of this new development the moment he learned it from Ambassador Glouster. It was true. The Americans would be hosting a diplomatic sendoff. The team had very little time, only a few days. However, Rollin did manage to get the invite from a responsive if reluctant Knoll, for lunch at his immense home the following afternoon. His reluctance made Rollin all the more certain that Cinnamon was alive and in close proximity.

Just before he left, Rollin slipped on his tweed jacket and placed the receiver to the back of his ear. Barney and Willy, keeping a safe distance, would follow in the truck. Then, they would create a diversion when Rollin gave them the go-ahead.

Once again, Phelps warned his team that storming the house would not be acceptable. If they were to get Cinnamon out they would need to be careful and creative.

"Aren't we always?" Barney had asked, dryly.

[]

_**Continue ...**_

_**Brief Chapter, I know, but just a quickie before the more interesting "stuff" starts. :)**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

[]

Before he left Willy and Barney, Rollin was given a few safety devices and a flexible explosive to hide in his coat pocket.

"Remember, spread the compound over the lower glass pane and I'll do the rest." Barney said. He lifted a small box with a white button in the center. "One click." he said.

"And it will look like the window was pushed from the inside out?" Willy asked.

"Yes. It's been tested."

Rollin understood. "And the pellet?"

"I'm giving you three." Barney said, "Use them when needed."

They could not be too prepared.

[]

"Spectacular." Rollin murmured. He appeared to be talking with himself, overwhelmed by the architectural beauty about him. He was escorted about the great house by its owner, Andre Knoll, who appeared very pleased to show off his home. Rollin already had an idea of what he would be seeing as they explored. Barney had produced a diagram of the interior only hours before he left the hotel room. Their technical expert's ingenuity never disappointed.

Rollin ran it over in his mind as he was directed through the parlor, library, ballroom, game-room, kitchens and several elaborately decorated bedrooms. He walked about the east, north and south wings of the grand house, congratulating Knoll on his wonderful eye for antiques and tapestries. However, his host purposely guided Rollin away from several doors near the west wing; rooms he claimed would be of no interest.

"Merely storage." he said.

Finally, Rollin took a stroll in the main garden with Cinnamon's imposter. He noted the woman was despondent, visibly glum through the mask she wore. Her eyes were somewhat red and bleary, indicating she had cried before his arrival. Rollin suspected last evening's inebriated invitation had been badly received by Knoll, particularly when Rollin called the house first thing this morning and quickly invited himself over. He told Knoll apologetically that he was very busy and would be leaving in a couple of days. This might be his last chance to view the estate's splendor.

"You must be very happy here, Janine." Rollin told the woman, watching her reaction as they wandered.

"Yes." She said, her voice holding emotion, "Andre is a good man and he's been very kind to me."

"That is obvious." Rollin pushed, "He must love you very much. I can see his admiration every time he looks at you." He took her hand suddenly, "You know how I feel about you, Janie. How I've always felt about you." His eyes were imploring, "Any man who looks at you loves you. It is your gift."

"Any man?" she asked quietly, looking from their connected hands up into his blue eyes. Nervous, she pulled back when she sensed their handsome visitor was moving in to kiss her. Complex emotions assailed her. The woman's bottom lip trembled slightly, "Excuse me, James. I must check-on lunch."

Once again, Rollin felt encouraged. He watched the conflicted woman walk to the manor-home from the garden. The agent told her he would follow shortly. Speaking through his button microphone, Rollin told Barney and Willy that, the first chance he got, he would explore the west side of the estate and they should stand ready with their disruption and transportation.

During lunch, sitting in one of the more informal dining areas, Rollin warmly and openly told Knoll that he envied him not just his home and gardens but also that he had been fortunate enough to acquire the lovely Miss Razzman as his devotee. She was an exquisite asset and he, one among many men, was envious.

The woman flashed Rollin an uncomfortable smile.

"Indeed." Knoll bowed his head ever so slightly and lifted his glass from the table in a cheers gesture. "To beautiful women."

"To _Miss Razzman_." Rollin saluted with a small clarification, "The loveliest flower in your garden. The perfect lady."

The woman stared at Knoll during the toast, met his gaze, and allowed the tears to fall. She then fleetingly excused herself with a sob and ran from them.

"Did I say something wrong?" Rollin appeared stunned but he had hoped this outburst would happen. The woman had been unsteady in the garden, appeared on the verge of weeping even then, and Rollin suspected she and Knoll had bitterly fought.

"Excuse me." Knoll pulled his chair out, laying the napkin beside his plate, stood and followed her.

Rollin waited until they were completely out of sight before he withdrew out the opposite door. Keeping his eyes open to danger, the agent then made his way to the principal staircase and quickly footed it to the west wing. He approached the doors Knoll had been avoiding but was stymied by a call. A footman spotted Rollin and, thinking quickly, he asked him where the closest washroom was located. The young man was accommodating, appearing to suspect nothing, as Rollin walked in the direction indicated. Once he was out of sight, Rollin quickly reversed step and came back to the forbidden doors. He opened one side, slid inside, and shut it again behind him. Rollin quickly surmised Cinnamon would not just be held under lock and key but would probably also be guarded by a sentry as well.

Focused, Rollin rounded a corner and quickly stepped back when he learned his assumption was correct. The man, appearing bored, sat in a chair just outside an ornate door of what appeared a bedroom. Rollin reached into his jacket's inside pocket and produced one of the pellets Barney had insisted he take with him. Rollin was now glad he listened. He broke the seal on the external wrapper and, with a silent but forceful pitch; he aimed directly at the guard. Rollin, peering around the corner, observing a small puff of smoke and watched as the man fell from his chair, dropping to wobbly knees, then collapsed to the floor unconscious.

He tried the door, rattling the handle, but it was locked. Rollin searched the prone man on the floor and found the key in his left-side pocket. "Good boy." He whispered and slipped the key into the lock. It was a smaller bedroom compared to the others Rollin had seen and far more clinical. He slowly made his way inside then, spotting her, he rushed to the bed.

Cinnamon lay on her side, wearing a dark skirt and long-sleeved blouse, peacefully sleeping. She was pale and seemed a little too thin, he thought, but at least she was alive … Rollin, attention diverted, noted several odd apparatuses near the bed and wished Barney was with him. He might be able to identify exactly what they were and if they posed a danger to he, Cinnamon or the house should they come into contact with a flame or small detonation. If they had more time he would describe them to Barney but, as it was, Rollin felt he would be lucky to get Cinnamon and himself out of the house in one piece.

"Cinnamon," Rollin whispered. She was whole and alive and lovely despite her ordeal. Yet, a distrustful part of the agent could not believe it was this easy. Carefully, sitting on the edge of her bed, Rollin reached over to touch Miss Carter's chin and cheek. He needed to be absolutely certain that this too was not a mask. It was not. It was the woman's own perfect peaches and cream complexion. "Cinnamon." He repeated and watched as she stirred, her head slowly rocking back and forth.

Regardless of the danger, Rollin paused and was once again reminded of how he had watched her sleep, months ago now, while they were cruising the Hawaiian Islands. She was just as appealing now, soft and warm and nearly kitten-like in her attempt to awaken. Rollin felt the tension leave his neck and shoulders. That release heightened when he acknowledged that she might also be able to answer some nagging questions.

She gulped slightly as her eyes fluttered open. At first Cinnamon could not believe what she was seeing, "Rollin?" she queried. No, it wasn't possible, she thought, and nearly cried out at Knoll, telling him to stop tormenting her. "Rol …"

"Yes, it's me." He took her by the upper arms and helped Cinnamon to sit upright. He smiled warmly at her disbelieving expression. His smile widened slightly as an uncertain hand lifted to touch his jaw and cheek, as if she too were searching for a mask, the fingers drawing a line up to his temple. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Rollin!" Cinnamon threw herself into his arms, now fully recognizing her colleague, friend, and lover; grateful for his presence and so pleased she had held on to her resolve. She knew they would come for her and – somehow – Cinnamon also knew Rollin, not Jim, would be the person she would see first when awakening. "Darling. I …" she started but stopped when Rollin tapped the button on his jacket, indicating they were being listened in on.

She nodded her understanding.

Rollin then touched her hair, silently leaning forward to kiss her on the forehead, and looked into Cinnamon's exhausted eyes. He could not begin to know what Knoll and his people had done to her but the equipment in the room, a contrast to the antique furnishings through-out the rest of the house, was strange and disquieting. He would ask her about it later. Currently, escape was paramount. "Can you move?" he asked her.

"Yes." With his help she stood and slid her feet into a pair of low heeled leather slippers. Cinnamon teetered for a moment, feeling dizzy and spent, but his arm holding her steady gave the woman strength. "How are we going to get out?" she asked, snapping back into an inquisitive IMF agent.

"It's taken care of but this is a part of it." He pulled the compound from his pocket, a putty-like substance, and walked over to the room's lone window. He looked outside, careful no one was in the garden and able to spot them. He then spread it on various areas of the glass, paying careful attention to the bottom portion as Barney indicated. Once finished, Rollin lifted the top button of his jacket. "Barney, this is your queue. Give us ten minutes then activate. Willy, bring the truck around."

"Will do." came a crackle in his ear.

Rollin then looked at Cinnamon and reached for her hand. "Come with me." he said.

[]

Once he had locked the bedroom door behind Cinnamon and himself, Rollin up-righted the sentry in his chair and placed the key back into the man's pocket. When the guard awoke he would merely think he had fallen asleep on duty. This would not be something he would call to Mr. Knoll's attention.

Again, Rollin took Cinnamon's hand and rushed her to the hallway which connected the west wing to the main staircase. They were standing in a small darkened alcove as he peered into the downstairs foyer, to see if anyone was present or looking for him. "Wait here." Rollin told her as he carefully disengaged Cinnamon's hand from his own. Cautiously, he began to make a move for the stairs.

"Don't go." Cinnamon suddenly said, grasping his arm, appearing nervous and frightened.

Looking into her darting green eyes, Rollin was sympathetic but surprised. Cinnamon was usually very cool and poised, even during their more desperate missions. It was one of the abilities that made her such a valued secret agent. Still he, none of them, could know what had happened to her after Cinnamon had been kidnapped. Rollin suspected a large amount of chemicals were now coursing through the woman's blood stream. Probably enough drugs to make any human being edgy and distrustful. He would make a note later to check her arms for pinholes. "It's okay, Cinnamon." He spoke gently and touched her shoulder, "You'll know when it's safe to move. Quickly make it out the front door down to the gate. Willy will be waiting for you. Understand?"

Attaining control, she bobbed her head. "Yes." And before she let him go said: "Please be careful, Rollin."

He gently gave her shoulder a squeeze before making a run for the staircase.

Rollin was halfway down the stairs when he heard muttering shouts from Knoll's parlor. They came from his woman and Rollin, curious, approached the curtain dividing it from the foyer. He watched at the couple argued with one another and suddenly was made aware of another possible development.

"Be honest." She said, "You don't want me. You want that blond, that ridiculous piece of fluff upstairs, with the beauty and dignity I am so greatly lacking!"

Rollin noted her accent. A Swede, he thought, and – despite the situation - admired her nearly flawless adoption of an American accent.

"Even that fool, Jefferies, loves her and he hasn't seen her in years!"

"Quiet, Marie." Knoll lifted a hand and glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the dining room. Then, "She is merely the means to an end and you know it. We have no time for this petty suspicion. That fool is still waiting for us, probably on his fifth glass of wine since we left him alone. We need to get him out of the house."

"_You_ go back in there!" she hissed, "I am done for the day!" With that, the woman defiantly pulled her Cinnamon mask off, revealing short auburn hair. Marie was by no means ugly but she was rather plain, Rollin thought, and he could see why having someone as divine as Cinnamon Carter in their home might make her jealous. He suspected there was more to it than that but if she and Knoll were lovers Rollin could only guess this was not the first fight they had after he abducted Cinnamon.

"Once this whole thing is over, when our duty is complete, you and I will not have to worry about Miss Razzman ever again." He assured, taking the reluctant Maria into his arms. "The plan is self-eliminating, my love. Remember?"

"So says Dr. Kwik." The woman relented somewhat, "Sometimes I think you trust that man far too much, Andre."

He smiled at her and touched Marie sweetly under the chin. "The party at the American embassy will be unlike any they have ever seen before."

Rollin stepped back, certain yet hesitant of the IMF's next move. His instincts told him they needed to keep Cinnamon where she was. Whatever Knoll had planned involved her and they would not truly understand her part in their enemy's mission unless the undertaking was allowed to progress. However, on a more personal note, Rollin did not want Cinnamon in danger for another moment. What if part of Knoll's assignment involved killing her before tomorrow night's party? The uncertainty was mind-boggling.

They would go ahead as planned.

Rollin could only hope that by taking Cinnamon away he had stalled the assassination attempt on one of the diplomats for another time. In a way, although not a permanent solution or something Jim Phelps would be proud of, it would still make for a successful mission. He silently watched as Cinnamon, seeing the coast clear except for Rollin, walked down the stairs, her eyes darting about, until she reached the front door. She paused briefly, acknowledging him with a short nod, then made her exit.

Rollin returned to the dining room. A few moments later Knoll arrived to see Rollin, or Mr. Jefferies, indulging in another glass of his fine wine.

"Forgive me." Knoll said.

"Not to worry, my friend." Rollin replied, "I understand that often times affairs of the heart take precedence."

"Indeed. Thank you."

"But I really must be going." Rollin put the glass down on the table and stood, "Forgive me for taking up so much of your valuable time, Mr. Knoll."

"Will I be seeing you at the Embassy party tomorrow night?"

Rollin smiled as he rounded the corner to shake Knoll's hand, "I wouldn't miss it." Then: "Will Janine be coming down again?"

"No, I am sorry. She has a headache."

"Oh, I _am_ sorry." Rollin said as he was escorted to the front door, "Please, give her my best. Perhaps next year you both can come to the United States and be _my_ guests."

"Sir!" A mature footman with a thick accent came to the dining room, appearing anxious. "Apologies sir. There is an emergency that needs your immediate attention!"

Knoll sighed audibly, "The life of a landowner." He explained to Rollin. "Thank you for gracing us with your presence, Mr. Jeffries. It's been a pleasure."

"Sir, please hurry! It's in the _west wing_."

This caused an immediate reaction and Knoll left Rollin, in mid handshake, at the door as he raced up the stairs. With a mild smile, Rollin hesitated for a few seconds before he exited the house. "The pleasure was all mine." he murmured as he walked to his car.

Rollin waved at the gate guards as they opened up to allow him escape. He had Barney's two remaining knock-out pellets within easy reach just in case there was trouble but, as yet, Knoll had not given the word and he left without obstruction. Eventually, he would catch up with the others in the truck and they would proceed directly to the safety of the American embassy. The hard part was over, Rollin thought. With Cinnamon safe all they had to do was be certain the diplomats were out of danger. He was confident, with the help of his team members, they would prevail.

[]

"That was unexpected." The woman said, standing beside the shattered window of the small bedroom in the west wing. She looked out into the garden and the gate beyond the yard. "I find it stunning, after all we did to her, that she managed an escape."

"Yes." Knoll stood behind Marie, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Do you think Jefferies helped her?"

"Possibly, although we are intended to believe she did it on her own." He looked closely at the window. It looked as if Miss Razzman had pushed it out and carefully crawled along the outside ledge to drop to the grass below. "In the end, it does not matter. It is not ideal but we already know she, whoever the woman really is, will insist on staying on at the embassy. She _will_ go to the farewell party and eventually all will work as envisioned. As a matter of fact," He turned Marie around to look at her, "this is less dangerous for you, darling. I can appreciate that."

"With her free you will not need me to go to the party? Are you sure? Perhaps I can run interference." she said, attempting to be helpful.

"It might have been nice to have you there, masked as Janine and planting seeds of doubt in certain ears. However, with her there in full view of a room full of people - and Dr. Kwik ready to do his part – this could work out very well."

His hands touched Marie's auburn hair and caressed her pale cheek.

Pleased by his attention now that the blond was gone, Marie chuckled and allowed Andre's affection. She leaned forward, awaiting a kiss.

"Soon it will all be over, dearest." Knoll said just before he snapped her neck and watched the stupefied woman fall to the floor, dead.

She had outlived her usefulness.

He would have to notify Dr. Kwik of a few changes.

[]

They arrived at the embassy by twilight and Cinnamon assured her team that although she was fatigued she felt well. Rollin insisted, however, that the embassy medic check her over. The doctor declared that although Cinnamon was a bit dehydrated and disoriented she was well. She had been drugged as Rollin suspected but they were advised that it would have no lasting consequences.

After a good night sleep she would be up for breakfast and questioning.

Willy was the first person who mentioned they needed to get her back to the states for a debriefing and care but Cinnamon told them no. She was absolutely determined to be at the farewell party for the diplomats the following evening. After all, Cinnamon reasoned, she was still an agent and since the mission was still in progress - and it did not seem she was compromised - she wanted to see it through.

"Besides," Miss Carter said, settled into an arm chair and drinking a cup of tea before she turned in. "I am going to love seeing Knoll's expression when he sees me at the gathering. I might even ask to slap the cuffs on him and Dr. Kwik myself." She jested.

Rollin reluctantly agreed to let her finish out the mission but told Cinnamon he would be by her side constantly. He smiled uneasily when she nodded, sipping her tea, and gave him a secretive wink.

[]

**Continued ….**


	5. Chapter 5

**5.**

In the American embassy a common room, now swept daily for listening devices, was provided for the IMF to meet and talk. It retained a heavy rectangular table, covered with a lace cloth, and the area was usually used as a dining room for more informal staff meals. This morning a side table held a breakfast selection fit for a queen. Plates, napkins and utensils were laid out for their visitors' convenience.

She ate ravenously; eggs, bacon, potatoes, cereal, orange juice and coffee. Cinnamon was up an hour before the others and had forgotten how glorious it was to eat what she wanted when she wanted it. She winced even at the thought of the strange oatmeal or mush her abductors gave her every morning while she was held captive. It had a chemical taste and Cinnamon knew it contained a narcotic of some kind, something to keep her calm, but it was all she was given until the evening meals which were, at least, reasonable; coffee, a meat and vegetables. Last night she had missed even that.

Cinnamon blinked and paused many times while she devoured her meal, trying to remember what it was like, the fear, anger and bewilderment. She questioned her oppressors but they never replied. Cinnamon recalled being taken into a room with many hot flashing lights, hating them and the cruel people behind them, wanting it all to go away, and she had been questioned in rapid succession, giving them yes and no answers. A word crept into her consciousness: _Australia_. She had always wanted to go there but she did not know why she felt it important or how it could relate to her most recent experience. Perhaps it merely grounded and comforted her, the idea of going there, seeing the harbor bridge and the area where the new opera house was going to be built and all the other sites ….

Then, that woman approached, having Cinnamon tied to a chair, and roughly covered her face with plaster for a mask mold. Cinnamon had felt trapped under the heavy coating, trying to breathe, feeling closed off and frightened, but attempting so hard to be brave …

She thought of Rollin. How often had their Master of Disguise gone through this very same process to make the masks he had perfected over the years? Yes, courageous Rollin Hand; handsome and fearless … loving and gentle … Her salvation.

"Good morning." Rollin called. He had watched her from the open entrance for a few moments before walking inside, as Cinnamon finished her eggs and pensively sipped warm coffee. He closed the door behind him.

She sat up straight, a bit startled, and looked over at him. Cinnamon smiled, "Good morning."

He brought the coffee pot over to their dining table and poured himself a cup. Rollin, relieved to see the woman well, returned her smile. Cinnamon had showered, changed clothes, and applied a little make-up. Her eyes seemed a bit vague but brighter than last night, he thought. She also seemed fragile in the same way as a patient was often slightly precarious when healing after a long illness. "Do you feel up to some questions?" he inquired, sitting in a chair at the closest corner to Cinnamon. When she nodded he asked, "When were you taken?"

"About two weeks into the assignment. I had just run some forms over to Glouster's aid's office when Andre Knoll's secretary, I'm sure it was his woman Marie, called to me and said Andre was desperate to see me. He needed information about one of Babcock's service supporters. I wasn't certain what I could tell him but I didn't want to waste an opportunity." she hesitated, "I went to the parking garage and approached my car … The next thing I recall was awaking in a bed in Knoll's home."

"What were they …" Rollin started but felt a little uncomfortable, "…doing to you?" He lifted the coffee cup to his mouth and looked over the brim.

Cinnamon side-glanced at him but the smile on her lips indicated he had not asked anything inappropriate, "Lots of questions and, for the longest time I kept in character, told them only the script I was given. But honestly, after they started drugging me I lost huge sections of memory. I slept, woke and I slept again. I recall Dr. Kwik walking me into a large white room, also into the estate's garden. He told me that I was a very strong woman, almost too strong to serve their purpose, but I could never get out of him what exactly that purpose was." She looked directly at Rollin, "However, I think Knoll and Kwik merely wanted me to give them as much information as I could about myself. The clues gathered - with the limited information I had – have me assuming that Marie, wearing a mask with my face, was going to kill someone and disappear. Then, when they returned me to the embassy_ I_ would be blamed for the death …" She shivered, her fingers clenching from where her hand lay on the tabletop. Cinnamon felt Rollin reach for her, his skin warm against her own as it rested on the table.

"I suppose it makes sense." Rollin said but felt there had to be more to it. Something seemed out-of-place or unfinished but, like Cinnamon, he could not quite put his finger on it. "Tonight it will be all over." He assured.

The door to the dining room opened and Rollin's fingers slipped away from hers.

Barney and Willy entered, engaged in an animated conversation. They greeted Cinnamon warmly, please by how well she looked. "Jim will be here by tonight." Barney told them, "He'll meet us at the party."

"So will the police." Willy added, "We will be waiting for Knoll, Kwik, and Marie to make a false move – as if kidnapping Cinnamon isn't reason enough for an arrest. They will be taken at the first sign of an assassination attempt."

"You don't think they'll still try it, do you?" Cinnamon asked.

"It will be their last chance." Rollin replied.

"If they're smart they'll leave the country." Barney quipped, "But they're still not certain what happened to you, Cinnamon. We hope Knoll assumes you escaped and you're trying to make it back to the embassy, possibly by hitch hiking, maybe hiding out with a friendly Belkholt family. But they also can't be entirely certain you aren't in the hands of the authorities. Whatever the case, they've worked too long and hard to stop now."

Rollin watched Cinnamon and briefly saw a look of trepidation cross her features. It was quickly replaced by a strained self-assurance. "Cinnamon, we will have to play it by ear." he said, knowing she understood their methods.

"But we'll keep you safe." Willy promised.

Cinnamon could not help smiling at her male companions. Equality of the sexes was a grand thing but occasionally it was flattering to be put on that protective pedestal. "Okay," Cinnamon said, attempting to dispense with grievous thoughts. "_But_, if I'm going to the party tonight I'm going to need a new gown."

Rollin still did not like the idea of her attending, exposing herself to an indeterminate danger, but he knew Cinnamon well enough to understand it was something she needed to see through to the end. She could convalesce later.

"What's wrong with the clothes you brought here?" Willy asked, sitting at the table with a large bowl of cereal and a side of fruit.

"They're at Knoll's estate." She said, "When the woman had me move from the embassy to Knoll's she took all my things with her; even my jewelry."

A look came over Cinnamon's face, something thoughtful and regretful, and Rollin wondered what she was pondering.

"The clothes I'm wearing," she continued, "belong to Molly, Ambassador Glouster's secretary. She lent them to me until the blouse and skirt I wore last night are laundered. Personally, I think the Secretary owes me a whole new wardrobe." Arching an eyebrow, she looked at all three of her companions and dared them to disagree with her.

The men chuckled.

[]

Barney had placed cameras in the embassy's ballroom, where the party would take place. Filmed proof was permissible in this country and they wanted to cover all angles. He and Willy worked with the equipment; adjusting and fine tuning, as Cinnamon and Rollin went shopping.

Laden with packages, including a divine sea green gown and gloves, Rollin followed her from shop to shop and - strangely – he enjoyed watching the woman at work. Cinnamon, dressed entirely out of fashion, strolled the stores, at first perturbed the men and women behind the counters with her demands. However, Cinnamon's sophistication won them over in no time and when she mentioned certain designers by name, having worked with them, Rollin sensed near euphoria in some of the shop owners. Cinnamon was obviously a rich eccentric American, a lady of note, who knew her stuff. Her management of these people convinced Rollin she was well on the road to recovery.

Later, after having dropped the packages into the trunk of his car, Rollin saw Cinnamon looking forlornly into the window of a jewelry store. He chuckled when he saw her gaze directed at a lovely strand of pearls with a silver clasp. "See something you like?" he teased.

"Jut remembering." she whispered, solemn.

"What?" he asked, now a little uneasy.

"Maui." She smiled mildly, looking at his reflection in the window behind her. "We went into that awful shop that had all the tacky merchandise, things for tourist to send home to their unlucky families, but they did have the oyster tank. You told me to pick one, remember? There were three other customers there; one woman's oyster contained a huge dark pearl. She was so happy."

Rollin remembered, smiling mildly, gazing at Cinnamon's mirrored image in the window.

"Then, when mine was cracked open three of the tiniest perfect pink pearls emerged."

Rollin's smile widened and he shook his head. "Not the rarest of pearls," he admitted, "but they were pretty."

She continued, thoughtfully. "After a while, you sent me away to buy beach towels and when I came back I learned you had my pearls mounted into a beautiful necklace …" A hand lifted to her throat and Cinnamon turned around to look directly at Rollin. "It meant so much to me, darling. I remembered you clasping it around my neck for the first time and thinking … that I've been _called_ beautiful so often – but that was the first time in a long, long time that someone - a man - made me _feel_ beautiful."

Rollin and Cinnamon gazed at one another.

He was speechless. It was a simple thing, Rollin recalled, but the pink pearls hanging from the thin elegant chain seemed perfect for Cinnamon Carter. She wore the necklace to dinner that evening, stunning in black lace with her upper chest bared, and the others at their table aboard ship admired her jewelry and splendor … and Cinnamon had given him a look of such love … _yes love_ … and Rollin wanted nothing more at that time than to hold her in his arms and have them stay that way forever.

How could he have believed for even a moment that he hadn't fallen in love with her? It wasn't the allure of an attractive shallow woman, the obvious tartness she often displayed to lure a man into her trap during a mission. It was the real woman; a lady of class and warmth, a lovely soul that was far more than a beautiful face. Their love-making that evening had been tender and profound. She was exquisite in every way but, after their vacation, he had pushed her away when, in truth, he had wanted more than anything in the world to continue what they started.

"I wore it when they took me. It was underneath my blouse." Cinnamon suddenly said, her voice cracking ever so slightly. "When I awoke and reached for it – the necklace was gone. The woman told me she did not know what I was talking about when I asked her about its disappearance but I knew she had taken it …" Tears she tried to fight filled Cinnamon's eyes and Rollin gently took her in his arms.

He had thought her fragile this morning and her thoughtful breakdown right now reinforced his suspicion that something Cinnamon was not aware of had happened to her at Knoll's – and he felt Dr. Kwik would have the answers. Rollin was determined to corner him at the party tonight before his arrest. "Come on." he whispered, softly. "Let's get you back to the embassy so you can rest."

"Yes." She leaned into him, Rollin's arm around her shoulders. "Thank you." Cinnamon whispered.

[]

By the time the party was ready to start, Cinnamon was well, smiling, and in control. She was in her bedroom and had just put the finishing touches to her hair and make-up when Willy and Barney came to call on her.

With a flourished arm gesture, and a tug at his bow-tie, Barney explained that Rollin was already in the ballroom, keeping an eye on incoming guests and waiting for Phelps. They were advised that Mr. Babcock was running late for the function but Ambassador Glouster and some top aides would arrive on time for a meet and greet of their honored guests.

Duty always won out over personal wants. Although Cinnamon was disappointed Rollin was not available to escort her she understood why he was needed elsewhere. "Well then," She took both Barney's and Willy's arms and walked into the hall, "I now have you two handsome gentlemen to chaperon me." Slowly, they walked to the elevator. "Nothing wrong with that." She chuckled, admiring the men in their fine tuxedos.

"Our pleasure." Willy said.

As they descended, Cinnamon felt a sudden uncomfortable flush of apprehension. Something was happening. She could feel it, sensing an odd cold awareness of duty, something pulling at her subconscious (_"Australia"_), and Cinnamon did not feel quite herself. The sensation passed quickly and by the time they arrived on the first floor she was herself again.

Cinnamon walked with her two companions into the ballroom.

[]

**Continue ...**

_Sorry for the wait between chapters. Real life got in the way. :) Be sure to let me know how you're feeling about this fiction and, please, stay tuned for the thrilling conclusion. Thank you all for the support!_


	6. Chapter 6

**6.**

Rollin watched as the ballroom filled with elegant patrons, high-class patricians, and society devotees. Purses and pockets were checked for potential weapons but no one fussed too much about the inconvenience. With such influential V.I.P.s out and about how could they? Besides, it was an honor just being invited to such an event.

Two of the three target diplomats had already arrived. Sheik Adowa was speaking directly to Ambassador Glouster as he glanced, out of the corner of his eye, at the sumptuous buffet being catered by the embassy's efficient kitchen staff. Prince Shadin was talking to a young woman, possibly the lovely daughter of an advisor, while his muscular body guards stood by giving suspicious and furtive glances at anyone who approached their eventual leader. So far no one associated with Andre Knoll was visible.

Rollin hoped Jim Phelps would show soon. Through a memo he told Rollin and the others they were on the verge of getting a key piece of evidence from the aid, Warden. When the man did crack the IMF leader said he would immediately contact his team with further instructions. Meanwhile, Rollin needed to keep the unit alert for a potential calamity.

An elegant middle-aged lady with a reddish tint to her up-swept hair approached Rollin, dressed in a pale yellow beaded gown. She lifted a gloved hand to shake his own. "Mr. Jefferies from the United States?" she asked. At his nod, she continued, "I am Florence. Charles Berger, who assists David Babcock, is my husband."

"Very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Berger."

"Charles tells me that David will be here soon. A pouch needed delivered and apparently he was held up somewhere near Sandstorm Boulevard."

"That's fine. Meanwhile, we'll …" Rollin spotted the woman's necklace and paused. Three tiny pink pearls were in a tasteful setting. "May I ask where you got that?"

She lifted a hand to touch her upper chest, "My necklace? Beautiful, isn't it? I wish I could say Charles bought it but, to be honest, I found it right here in the embassy. It was lying on the carpet in the hallway near the eastside quarters. I left it in the lost and found for two weeks but no one ever claimed it … Security said I could have it." She stared at his tense expression, "Do you know who it belongs to?"

"Yes," he said, "I do."

[]

An impressive orchestra started gentle, graceful music just as Cinnamon, Barney and Willy arrived. Rollin watched her as she politely parted from her escorts and started to work the room. Cinnamon introduced herself as Janine Razzman and immediately shook hands, graciously curtsied or allowed the men to kiss her fingers as she spoke kindly but fleetingly with them. Rollin knew the woman well enough to see she was getting a feel for the guests, obtaining information, checking to see if there was any form of affiliation with Knoll or any other malicious foreign power that might not want the best for the diplomats in question.

She was professional and infinitely approachable, he thought. Not just her manner but she was quite stunning, possibly the loveliest female in the room. Cinnamon was the type of woman the men did not just lust after but they also wanted their photographs taken with her. He could just imagine the stories they told their chums back home, lies about the passionate nights spent with this gorgeous lady … Rollin became uncomfortable by his musings and forced himself to focus away from her.

Ambassador Linentov arrived with his bride, Katrina, on his arm. He appeared as composed as ever but he smiled ever so slightly when she whispered something into his ear. She led him onto the dance-floor and they moved in close, swaying together, as were others.

Barney came up beside Rollin, "Any word from Jim?"

"Not yet."

"Any idea what information he might be getting from Warden?"

"Only that it has something to do with the potential assassination."

As hard as he tried, Rollin could not keep his attention from Cinnamon. He was worried about her. The man who had pulled her onto the dance floor was tall, dark and imposing. His hands were moving in directions less than proper. His style, the way he held her, was too demanding and Rollin could tell from her expression that she was not overly happy with his manners. The acting IMF leader looked across the room and made eye contact with Willy who had also been watching the scene. The weightlifter quickly made his presence known, cutting in on the aggressive Lothario. Willy's size was too intimidating to say no to, and soon he danced gracefully with a grateful Cinnamon. At a loss, the man turned about and walked to a set of impressive stain-glass double-doors.

"I'm going to question him." Rollin left Barney to track Cinnamon's would-be belligerent suitor. He began to wonder if Knoll had fit himself with a new mask and might have made demands. He was certain, if that was the case, Cinnamon would have sent signals to one of her team members. Yet, she had been through so much lately it would not surprise Rollin if the woman was off her game where Knoll was concerned.

He followed the man out onto the ballroom's long wrap-around balcony and casually, offering him a cigarette; Rollin discovered the embassy consultant was simply another lout. He drank too much before arriving at the party and, seeing a woman he liked, demanded what was not his. Rollin was a little disappointed he had no reason to treat the man with anything other than disdain, considering the liberties he had taken with Miss Carter. Still, it was a good sign as well. So far there were no real threats.

When Rollin returned to the ballroom he saw Cinnamon dancing with David Babcock. The man had finally arrived and, although Rollin found it curious that he immediately decided to contact Cinnamon, he did not question him. Babcock was probably just please she was well enough to attend the party.

Willy came up behind Rollin in the jam of the double-doors, "He cut in on me and seemed to have something important to say to her."

Rollin watched as Cinnamon looked up at Babcock and nodded.

"I think he's telling her that Dr. Kwik is here."

Rollin's eyes darted about the ballroom now, searching.

"He's by the buffet and so far hasn't made any move whatsoever to contact any of the diplomats."

Indeed, the doctor was eating but otherwise appeared merely weary.

"Mr. Jeffries."

Rollin had been so focused on Kwik he did not realize that Babcock and Cinnamon had stepped away from the dance floor and now joined him. He shook the man's hand and nodded kindly at Cinnamon, appreciating her small secretive smile. "Glad you were able to make it." He said to Babcock but Cinnamon knew it was for her as well.

"Is everything secure?" Babcock asked.

"Yes. So far. What do you think Kwik is waiting for?"

"Rollin." Barney whispered in his opposite ear. "I just heard from Jim. Sheik Adowa is the target. We need to get him out of here."

The agent was quick, "Willy, go to the Sheik, show him your credentials, and get him away from this ballroom. By force if you have to."

"I'm going to move the boy out onto the balcony." Cinnamon said.

The men looked over and realized the Sheik and Prince Shadin were now talking with one another and did not look too friendly. Was it possible the prince's father had sent him here to do the sheik in? Was he partnered with Knoll in some way? Rollin did not think so but they could not be too careful. "Go." Rollin said and watched as his people disperse. He turned his attention away from them to speak with Babcock but saw the man had moved across the room as well, to talk with Ambassador Glouster. Rollin then watched as Willy moved the cooperative sheik across the ballroom, followed by his guards, and out the double doors into the foyer.

Cinnamon, her arm entwined in the young prince's, gently pulled him along. The youthful woman who had been his date was peeved but was being spoken with by his guards who were left to appease her. Everything seemed to be going well until Rollin lost sight of Dr. Kwik. He was no longer by the buffet. He did not appear to be in the room at all. Rollin nearly made a move to the foyer when, instinctively, his eyes focused on the open doors to the balcony. Something intuitive and frightening occurred to him and he moved to follow Cinnamon and the prince. He stopped still when he saw Cinnamon, the prince _and_ Dr. Kwik standing in a circle near a row of tall bushes, talking. There were others on the large outdoor balcony getting air, smoking, laughing and drinking. With the exception of Kwik, nothing seemed amiss but he felt a tightening in the pit of his stomach; an awareness that kept him on alert. Then Rollin heard the doctor say something, loud and clear, that was odd and completely random …

"As you know, in Australia it's summer in the winter and winter during the summer …" He then stood back and watched as Cinnamon did as she was programmed.

Face impassive, the IMF agent pulled a gun from her purse, a firearm she did not have when she entered into the ballroom, and aimed it directly at Prince Shadin's head.

The young man backed up, stunned and terrified.

"NO!" Rollin called and ran to them.

The gun was fired but not before a hand and body pressed its way through one of the tall bushes and pushed her arm upward, the bullet lodging into the ceiling above the balcony. Women screamed and glasses shattered as surprised guests got the fright of their lives.

Cinnamon, woozy and faint, collapsed into the arms of a fair-haired, tall and rugged man the prince had never seen before.

For Rollin, there had never been a more welcoming sight, than the appearance of Jim Phelps.

"Rollin, it's Babcock! Go get him!" Phelps called, pulling the gun from Cinnamon's hand.

The agent jetted from the balcony into the ballroom and met Glouster and Babcock at the halfway point. They had heard the shots. Rollin caught the Ambassador's aid by the arm and nearly said something when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He then looked much closer at David Babcock and nodded. "You're good." Rollin murmured, "Maybe even better than me."

"What are you talking about?" Ambassador Glouster asked, confused by Rollin's words and Babcock's unexplained appearance of assent.

With little ceremony, Rollin reached underneath the man's collar and pulled firmly at an open flap. His mask peeled off and underneath, tolerant and smirking, was Andre Knoll. Rollin then looked down at the mask and at the real Babcock as he came in from the foyer, having just reassured Sheik Adowa that all was well. Rollin now knew how Cinnamon got the gun. On the dance floor it was slipped into her purse by Knoll. As David Babcock he never would have been subjected to the search of a typical guest.

Glouster stood with his mouth open, flabbergasted.

"It almost worked." Knoll said with faint pride, "Alas, it will now be up to the courts." The man continued to smile at Rollin and the agent had a disturbing feeling that the whole game had not yet been played out.

[]

Later, as confused guests filed out of the ballroom and the diplomats were mollified, as Knoll was arrested and taken to police headquarters under Willy's watchful eye, as Cinnamon was quickly sent to her room in the embassy to rest; Dr. Kwik was pulled into the IMF's common-room at the embassy. He was also going to prison but there were still some unanswered questions the IMF needed cleared up. The debriefing was quick but informative.

"A posthypnotic suggestion?" Barney asked the distinguished but fallen doctor. He stood by the room's fireplace and smoked a cigarette. He watched as a tense Rollin sat across from the doctor. Jim Phelps, paced behind him. Official police guards were on the door.

"Conditioning." Kwik clarified. "For two weeks we worked on Miss Razzman. She was drugged and … and …"

"Tortured?" Rollin asked, voice low and burning. He was unsmiling and accusing.

"Yes." He admitted, "She was subjected to loud noises, bright lights, nearly anything within reason to break her control. And always, at the end of the day, we would ask her to kill the Prince. A gun with a blank was placed in her hands and a mannequin was brought before her, representing Prince Shadin. We told her if she would just shoot him in the head the pain would stop – but she never did. Our test subjects broke after the first week but Miss Razzman has an iron will. Not until two days ago did she _finally,_ after we adjusted her conditioning, fire the gun. Then, immediately after this we gave her the trigger phrase."

"The one about Australia." Phelps commented.

"Yes."

"Why _her_?" Barney asked.

"She was new and seemingly honest, a fresh face, and physically was the same size as her double, Marie Gilbert." He paused, regretfully. "Mr. Knoll got rid of Marie after you broke Miss Razzman out of the estate. I was sorry to find he had murdered her. It was a foolish, emotional thing for him to do."

Rollin knew he should feel somewhat guilty about her death but under the circumstances he could not. Marie had been involved up to her neck in the assassination attempt and Cinnamon's suffering. While she probably did not deserve to die she did go into the scheme with her eyes wide open.

"Initially we were going to bring her in and have Marie plant the seeds of discontent during the party. She would purposely set herself up to be an unstable sort during this affair. Then, we would replace her with Miss Razzman and have her do the dirty work. It would seem obvious that the woman had some kind of mental breakdown … But it did not work out the way expected. Warden was detained by your people and we knew he would reveal our plans. We gave him the false story of the Sheik as our assassination target to throw you off ... We had to retool the plan but Knoll still thought it could be successful."

"He thought wrong." Babcock, who was standing near the guards, motioned to the police to take him away.

"Before I am officially arrested -" Dr. Kwik called, "you better bring your colleague down so that I may deprogram her. It's a simple counter phrase but it must be said by _me_."

Phelps stopped short, "You mean, if she hears 'Australia' again she'll try to shoot someone?"

"No, no. That's done and over. But there is a second part to her conditioning …"

Rollin stood quickly, something clicking in his brain. "Knoll. He told Marie something …"

It hit him at the same moment Barney announced: "Knoll told her it was _self-eliminating …_"

"Yes." Kwik said, "Miss Razzman is going to try and kill herself."

_"When?"_ Rollin moved forward and, nearly panicked, grabbed Kwik by the collar, shaking him.

"The minute she's left alone." Kwik said, flustered. "You _didn't_ send her up alone, did you?"

No, they had not. But, for an industrious agent like Cinnamon Carter, proficient in the ploys of distraction and evasion, a simple unaware escort was the same as being left to her own devices.

Rollin and Jim raced to the east side of the embassy, to guest quarters. A woman in the embassy's security division was positioned in the outside hall and was startled by the men's abrupt appearance. She held no weapon and could only watch as they hurriedly approached the room. Swinging the bedroom door open, spotting her sea-green gown lying across the bed, the men were alarmed to see Cinnamon's room was empty.

[]

**_This one ran a little long - so one more chapter!_**

**_Stay tuned!_**


	7. Chapter 7

**CONCLUSION:**

She had fled out of her bedroom window, onto the fire escape, pulling up the ladder behind her. It had not been rushed or hap hazard. Cinnamon may have reflexively planned it, unaware she was doing so, from the moment she returned to the embassy.

Both men, not speaking a word to one another, dashed from the room. "Where are the stairs to the roof?" Phelps called to the guard.

The woman pointed to a door at the end of the hall.

Rollin was agonized and furious. He thought of her manner this morning while they were shopping, how melancholy and introspective Cinnamon had seemed while reflecting on their time together during the cruise. Was she trying to tell him something even then? Was she, in fact, saying she was not long for this world, that their time together would be one of the few pleasant memories taken with her into the afterlife? Had he been too damn blind to see the obvious?

Cinnamon had a start on them, that much was certain, but quick observation made the men believe there was still a chance. The agent had removed her clothing, showered and redressed before she left her room. They weren't certain why, if it had been part of her programming or if it was something she, Cinnamon herself, chose to do before she met her end.

Rollin was told once that a person under hypnosis could not kill themselves unless they really wanted to die. He understood the situation with Cinnamon was different. She had been drugged, abused and conditioned in a manner that was completely new to them. Perhaps there was still a little of her true fighting spirit in there, grappling with Dr. Kwik's influence, the voices in her head telling her she must meet a violent end. Perhaps it was Cinnamon, the rebel, who was doing what she could until her friends came and rescued her from a fate that had been foisted upon her.

And she was strong. Even Dr. Kwik had his doubts the conditioning would work on Cinnamon until, ultimately, she had succumbed.

Rollin was the first on the roof when they burst through the door and he frantically looked from end to end, trying to find her.

"Rollin!" Jim, following him, spotted her and pointed to where she stood, on the ledge, her hands raised, her head and hair tilted back and her eyes focused on the half-moon above. "Careful, Rollin …" Phelps warned as he slowly approached her from behind.

"Cinnamon." Rollin spoke gently, his voice barely heard above the night sounds, the busy traffic so many floors below them, "Come down."

"It's peaceful up here." She replied, not looking at him, her voice wistful.

"It's just as peaceful down here." He was close to her now and perhaps she sensed it because the woman scooted her bare feet up a few inches on the ledge, her toes dangling over the side now. Rollin stopped moving, frightened. "Please come down." He implored.

She was dressed in a lovely, lace nightgown – had been bold enough to model it for him this morning in the lingerie shop – and she had smiled at his reaction. She also wore a thin robe tied at the waist. Her hands raised to the heavens reminded him of wings and she did appear nearly angelic, with the light of the moon and stars surrounding her pale skin and blond hair. "Why?" she asked, nearly childlike, "Why should I come down?"

Rollin could have said so many things, including that if she were to fall and die he would never forgive himself for being a visionless fool, unaware of her needs. He wanted to tell her he adored her and his life would never be the same without her, that he needed her in his life. Instead, he said: "I have something for you."

Her head turned ever so slightly so that Rollin and Jim were now looking at the profile of her comely but drawn face. "I don't need anything …" she started.

"Not just anything." Rollin gulped, reaching into his pocket. "Remember?" He lifted the necklace, the chain dangling from his fingers, with its lovely set and three perfect pink pearls.

Phelps expression reflected his confusion but obviously Rollin knew what he was doing. He watched as the woman turned ever so slightly and looked at what he held; her expression softening. Cinnamon's eyes lost the vagueness and became warm with remembrance.

"You found it." She murmured, smiling gently, her arms lowering.

"Yes, for _you_." Rollin replied, "Let me help you down and I'll fasten it around your neck." He urged, lifting a hand for her.

"No." she whispered the warmth now replaced with regret. "You keep it, Rollin, and remember what we had …" She turned forward once again, moving a few more centimeters on the ledge.

"No!" Rollin still spoke quietly but his tone was pleading. "Cinnamon, _I love you_. Please stay with me!"

Jim Phelps eyes widened. The earnestness in Rollin's shaking voice was jarring.

Cinnamon leaned forward ever so slightly and her body was shaking, "Oh." She turned to look at him once more, tears in her eyes. "Oh but Rollin, I …"

He moved forward very slowly, his hand extended to her, his fingers nearly touching her own. Rollin said, "Do not force me to live without you …" His voice still trembled, "I cannot do it … _Please_."

Finally, she nodded and reached for him just as the police appeared, in a mad rush, on the roof. Suddenly distracted, Cinnamon teetered and nearly fell.

Rollin discarded the necklace and lunged forward just in time to grasp Cinnamon's wrist, yanking hard and bringing her down to him, holding her close. A hand lifted to touch her cheek as she looked up at him. He smiled gently, grateful, and looked deeply into her eyes as Phelps spoke with the police, explaining as best he could about what was going on.

Cinnamon, lifting shivering fingers to touch his firm jaw, sighed very gently. Growing faint, she whispered: "I love you too." before she fell unconscious in his comforting arms.

[]

Back in the United States, in Los Angeles, she rested in City Hospital. It was a private room inundated with flowers, photographs of friends and their children, fashion magazines and – with the curtains opened - the room was comfortably bright with the early afternoon sun.

She had been there for a few days. Her doctors, both physical and mental, told Phelps and her associates that Cinnamon was basically suffering from neglect. She was weak and dehydrated; lost weight and vital nutrients and, of course, she was also emotionally fragile from her ordeal. Her memory had taken a beating and although her long-term was fine Cinnamon's short-term was very spotty and, the experts feared, she would never get it all back.

"What does that mean as far as her work with the IMF?" Willy had asked, uneasy.

"She's been through a trauma." Jim had told Willy as he, Barney and Rollin spoke with Phelps in his apartment, before visiting her at the hospital. "Fortunately, she remembers very little of it. She is much less affected than we might think."

It seemed true. She was sitting up in bed, smiling, well-coiffed, lovely and appeared happy if a little anxious. "I want to get back to work." Cinnamon said, wearing a tastefully elegant nightgown and robe. "And as soon as I'm released I expect to be back in action." She looked pointedly at Phelps.

"No rush, Cinnamon." Barney told her, snickering. "We want you healthy first."

"If I get much more rest I'm going to become out-right lazy." She grumbled.

Rollin stood to the back of the room and remained quiet, observing her. What he wanted to say needed privacy. Yet, watching her – noting she had not attempted to make eye contact with him - he was not sure where to begin.

Their work was completed in Belkholt. Knoll and Kwik were both found guilty during their treason trial, Barney's video of their antics during the party vividly played before a stunned if somewhat impressed jury. Cinnamon, under the circumstances, was dismissed in abstention. Prince Shadin appeared in court and advised the judge that his country and Belkholt were now in the midst of a trade agreement so, despite Knoll's attempts to break the alliance, matters were better than ever. Also, he had no urgent need to press charges against Miss Razzman (even if they _could_ find her). Shadin reasonably believed she was acting out of an involuntary compulsion, especially after Dr. Kwik explained his procedure to the jury.

The Secretary had receives reports from Phelps and Cinnamon's doctors and was satisfied she would be fine and fit after a short time. Removal from her job, The Secretary was assured, would not be necessary.

After the others had left her bedside, Rollin remained behind and when the door to her room shut he lifted a hand, crossed to Cinnamon and grasped her own, bending down to kiss the woman gently on the cheek. They gazed into one another's eyes and just when Rollin thought the time was right, when he was prepared to tell Cinnamon he was willing to leave the IMF if it meant they could be together, she sighed and spoke her own mind.

"I so wish I could remember more about Belkholt." She said, releasing his hand. "So many things confuse me."

Rollin felt something strange over-come him. An intuition told him to stay quiet, not to step over the line because, if he did, he might regret it. "Such as?" he asked, listening.

"I recall very little about my captivity. I know you took me from the house and we had breakfast the following morning with the others in the embassy. I even remember the two of us going shopping …" she chuckled, "How dull that must have been for you."

He gently shook his head _no_ as she continued.

"But really, after that everything becomes very … fuzzy."

"In what way?"

She paused and thought for a minute, "Barney and Willy brought me down to the party …" she concentrated, "I can almost see it … I remember the music. But then I go blank. Nothing else registers."

Rollin felt ill. "_Nothing_? You don't remember anything after that?" he asked.

"No. They tell me I took the Prince out onto the balcony and nearly killed the poor boy. Also, that you and Jim rescued me from throwing myself off a building. But I don't recall any of that." She shrugged and smiled, looking at his enigmatic expression.

"Maybe one day it will come back to you." Rollin held his hands behind him, preventing them from shaking, and gave her a mild smile. For her the experience on the embassy roof did not happen. Nor, he suspected, did she completely recall their conversation in front of the jewelry store. For Cinnamon Carter he was still merely a former lover, a current friend, and workmate who was wishing her well.

"Maybe one day but …." She shrugged, "… I suppose it doesn't truly matter, does it?"

He tried to make his smile look genuine, "No, I guess not. What's important is that you're fit." He reached over and picked up a fashion magazine and placed it in her lap. Rollin then bent down and once again kissed her gently on the cheek, "For now you rest, read, and get healthy. We're going to need you next month when we go to Paris. Jim tells me we may have an assignment in the fashion industry. Who better than you to lead the charge?"

Cinnamon chuckled. She was often teased by the men with regards to her glamor and sophistication. "I'll be ready."

Rollin gave a short wave and exited the hospital room, the door closing behind him.

Halfway down the hall he felt his legs go weak and he had to sit down. Rollin closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He had nearly given up everything for her, was prepared to toss away a career for a woman who, for now, did not feel the same about him. Even if Cinnamon _had_ recollected their declarations of love on the roof of the embassy - would he have just embarrassed himself? Was her reply purely in the heat of the moment?

Alerted, he felt someone beside him and looked up.

Jim Phelps stood and was staring down on him. "Are you okay?' he asked, shifting to sit next to his fellow agent in the row of chairs.

"Fine." Rollin said but his appearance was all but well. He was having a difficult time holding his emotions in check.

Jim Phelps was not a fool. He saw what was developing between his agents for months now and tried to ignore it. He suspected they were already lovers but, until he heard and saw them on that embassy roof, he had not realized how deep their affection truly was. But, in the end, he could predict what the outcome would be. Rollin did not know it but Jim had spoken to Cinnamon before he and the others had seen her. He _could_ have allowed the relationship to crash and burn; dismissing both of his agents. However, they were also his friends … and Jim Phelps was not an entirely heartless man. Cinnamon, the more practical of his two agents, was made to understand …

However, at a moment like this, when Rollin appeared so miserable, his heart broken, Jim could not ignore the man's pain. He gently slapped him on the back, "You want to go get a drink?"

"Yeah." Rollin did not hesitate. He stood, looked down the hall once again at the closed door to Cinnamon's hospital room, took another deep breath, and walked from the building with the IMF leader.

Life would have to go on.

[]

Cinnamon tossed her magazine aside and leaned back in her up-righted hospital bed. Pensive, she reached over and opened the drawer to her bedside table. She pulled the necklace from its hiding place and she stared as it dangled in front of her eyes. Jim had brought it to her this morning, having picked it up off the embassy roof when the others were not watching, and told Cinnamon what he suspected Rollin was about to do. If he did, and she was receptive, Jim would be forced to fire them both. There was _no_ room in the IMF for such emotions and relationships.

Although Cinnamon was wiling she could not be selfish. She simply could not allow Rollin Hand to sacrifice his career for her. He loved his work, thrived on the challenge, and he was too important to the IMF.

Cinnamon, most unfairly, felt herself a broken woman. Too much had happened and she was far too tenuous to be a good companion for any man now. Rollin deserved better, to be fulfilled by his life's ambition, to be an important man, not to settle for a woman he felt – certainly – love for but also an obligation.

Later, she and he might change their mind but, for now, they were simply teammates. It had to be this way, she knew. With a deep sigh of regret, recalling a romantic cruise, his lips on hers, and the strength of his wonderful body, Cinnamon clutched the three perfect pink pearls to her chest, over her heart.

On the embassy roof she admitted she loved him and it was true …

Cinnamon lifted a hand, fingers wiping away a single tear that had escaped her left eye. They would continue to work together, share a remarkable chemistry, but nothing more. In time the regret would lessen.

However, she would always remember.

[]

THE END

June-July, 2013

_Thanks to everyone for your encouraging comments. May the IMF ever be out there saving us all from harm! Becky_


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